The 1st Tale: In The Library
by Athena G
Summary: The first of several snippets of interactions between Dumbledore and McGonagall, and a glimpse into something that lies slightly beyond their friendship as their heads are bent low in the room of study. ADMM... but only just.
1. Ink

**Disclaimer:** None of the characters or places portrayed in this story are mine. All belong to J.K. Rowling. Not copyright infringement intended.  
**A/N:** I've only written the one so far but I have ideas for the rest. I realised I've written very few light-hearted tales, so I thought I'd give this a go. It's a nice break from _Tempest_ anyway.

_**Ink**_

The wonderful thing about the library at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was that it basically had any book you wanted. The bad thing about it was that some of the books in the Restricted Section were so stubborn that working _in_ the library was your only choice if you wanted to use them.

That was why, on a swelteringly hot Saturday in April, Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall were sitting at a table in the enormous room that was filled to the ceiling with books of all shapes, sizes and smells. It was also why they were on the receiving end of several rather bewildered expressions from their students.

The headmaster and his deputy had been asked by the school board to put together a book about modern Transfiguration which, if approved, will be added to the school curriculum for transfiguration students studying at NEWT Level.

The library, it had turned out, was the only place where one vital transfiguration book (_Transfiguration for the Limited Gifted_) would open. If you stepped outside of the library doors with this book in your hands it would start howling at you and would remain firmly shut. So this large dusty volume with mouldy, spotted pages and a rather unpleasant looking red leather cover was propped open and lying silent on the table before Dumbledore and Minerva on this cheerful Saturday afternoon.

-

A group of fifth year Gryffindor students studying this year for their OWLS walked into the busy but remarkably quiet library and sat around the only available table – the one adjacent to the two professors. One of the girls in the group nudged her friend and nodded towards the Headmaster and their Transfiguration professor. Their teachers' heads were barely an inch apart as they leant over a very large, very musty, old book, talking with each other in whispers.

The appearance of their professors in the library was curious, but what was more unusual was the relaxed manner in which they both appeared whilst in such close proximity. It was, of course, the female students who noticed this, and wild ideas exploded in their minds about the private lives of Dumbledore and McGonagall.

-

"I'm telling you, Albus," Minerva whispered fervently as she and Dumbledore leant over the large book, both peering through the glasses that were perched on the ends of their noses and scanning the miniscule characters that were inscribed on the yellowing pages. "It's derived from the Old French _transfigurer_."

"I am sure it has _Latin_ origins, Minerva," Dumbledore whispered, quite as ardently.

For the last five minutes Dumbledore and Minerva had been arguing about the origin of the verb _to transfigure_. Dumbledore turned one of the enormous discoloured pages.

"Ah, here it is," he said.

He was pointing to the small square of text that he and Minerva had been looking for. Minerva looked to where he was pointing and started to read the microscopic writing.

"Hmm, it would appear that we are both correct, Albus," Minerva said, with the tiniest of smiles, as she squinted at the minute letters which suggested that the verb in question had not one, but two origins.

However, only a few seconds had gone by when, all of a sudden, the ink on the page of their enormous volume faded, leaving a blank page staring back at them.

"_What_?" Minerva said crossly, staring bewilderingly at the disappearing text. "Where are the words going?" She turned to Dumbledore for an answer.

"It appears that this book has had enough of our scrutiny for the moment," Dumbledore told her calmly. "I'm afraid nothing can be done, Minerva. We just have to wait until it is feeling more sociable."

Minerva sighed impatiently. "Well when will _that_ be?" she asked with irritation. "We haven't got all day."

Dumbledore was glancing at her with an amused expression. "You have read this book many times, Minerva," he said, gesturing to the volume that now housed neither words nor pictures on _any_ of its pages. "We can fetch another book until this one is ready to be read."

"That is not the point, Albus," she said. "It's rude to have your words vanish when someone is reading them. It's never done it before," she added.

Dumbledore was silent.

"Albus?" Minerva said, with a definite tone of warning in her voice. Dumbledore looked at her with a smile. "What did you do to this book?" she asked.

-

The Gryffindors on the nearby table had been listening to their professors' squabble over the trivial matter that was the origin of a word, and now they glanced at each other and attempted to stifle their giggles as they saw their transfiguration professor's lips reduce to the smallest line and heard the threatening tone of her voice.

-

"Albus?" Minerva repeated.

"I may have transfigured it into a lemon once," he said nonchalantly.

"Oh for Heaven's sake. _Why_?" Minerva asked, baffled and snappy.

"I wanted to take it out of the library," he told her. "Incidentally, it still wails when it passes through the doors even as a piece of fruit."

"Well you'll just have to apologise," she said. "Then it might do as we ask and give us the words back."

-

The students across the room continued to listen, holding their breath for fear of laughing out loud whilst subtly watching their Headmaster be reprimanded by his Deputy. They saw Dumbledore lean, once again, over the large book in front of him and McGonagall. His long nose was almost touching the page as he stroked it smoothly. They saw McGonagall trying unsuccessfully to refrain from smiling at him as she held in her laughter.

-

"There," Dumbledore said, sitting back in his chair and beaming at the newly visible ink, then at the woman beside him. Minerva's smile grew.

"I wouldn't look too smug, if I were you," she said, a note of laughter surfacing in her voice.

"Why not?" Dumbledore asked, curious.

Minerva pressed her lips tightly together, trying even harder to hold in her smile, before saying, "You have ink on the end of your nose."

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose in amused alarm.

"The book must have spat it at you," Minerva declared, her cheeks now colouring faintly in laughter as she looked at the spot of black ink sitting on the very tip of Dumbledore's long, crooked nose.

Dumbledore's eyebrows fell. He turned back to the book and frowned at it.

"Now that is rather unpleasant of you, don't you think?" he said to the book, which simply lay on the table, inert and silent.

"You did turn it into a lemon, Albus." Minerva reminded Dumbledore promptly. "Here." She took her wand from the pocket inside her robes and attempted a simple spell to clear the ink – the ink, however, remained stubbornly present at the end of Dumbledore's nose.

"Hmm," she said, frowning. She tried a different spell. That didn't work either. Still frowning at the long nose, Minerva attempted a third spell. She sighed, defeated and looked up at Dumbledore.

"Well, you'll just have to cope with it until you can scrub it off," she told him plainly and turned back to the massive volume, a new smile lighting her eyes.

-

The Gryffindors were turning numerous shades of red from holding their giggles in. They had barely started any of the work they had traipsed to the library for because, nosy as it was, they were enjoying the private moment their teachers were spending together. It was refreshing to see the strict Professor McGonagall break into laughter, even if she was trying to hold it back; and it was wonderful to see the greatest wizard of all time struggling to magic a blob of ink off of the end of his nose.

-

"I've tried that already, Albus," Minerva said, now scribbling with her quill on an unrolled piece of parchment as Dumbledore sat next to her and repeated the spells Minerva had attempted to cast.

"Is it still there?" Dumbledore asked. Minerva exhaled loudly and turned back to the man beside her. Once again, her smile shone through.

"No, Albus," she lied. "It's gone. Can we get on with our work now?"

"Lying, my dear," Dumbledore said, "is the one thing you cannot do well."

Minerva coloured at his rather flattering statement. Ignoring it as best she could, she gave another characteristic sharp sigh and flicked her wand out just in front of her.

Out of thin air a small light blue sponge appeared. She turned to Dumbledore with it in her hand, knowing full well that he could not see the splodge of ink on the end of his nose.

"Look at me," she ordered.

Dumbledore turned his face to her.

-

The faces of the Gryffindors were now turned unashamedly in the direction of their professors and their eager eyes watched them expectantly. McGonagall raised a hand to Dumbledore and her fingers curled around the back of his neck. In her other hand she held the blue sponge that the students had seen her conjure out of thin air.

She raised the sponge to her lips and they heard her whisper a gentle spell into it. The shade of blue darkened as water, or something like it, seeped into it from nowhere. McGonagall's hand moved and the sponge was guided over to the tip of Dumbledore's nose.

The girls in the group of students smiled giddily as they watched McGonagall use a tenderness they had never thought she possessed. They silently decided amongst themselves that it was a tenderness she only used when she was with Dumbledore, and they sighed airily.

-

"There, that's done it," Minerva said in a low voice. The blob was still very present but Dumbledore wasn't to know that. It was true, she could not usually lie, but her voice had become very serious as she looked up from Dumbledore's nose to his overwhelmingly blue eyes.

He said nothing in reply and Minerva swallowed silently.

"So, where were we?" she said in a voice louder than was usually permitted in the library and turned quickly back to the musty book that lay before them.

TBC


	2. Don't Become a Fish!

**A/N: **Much obliged for the reviews as usual. It's a bit of a random storyless fic, but hopefully that's no matter. It just appeared in my brain one day.

**_'Don't Become A Fish!' _**

The fifth year Gryffindor students left the library an hour later to finish the revision that they had not completed due to the small but amusing distraction of their professors. However, they were replaced by three seventh years from the same house who were trying to put the finishing touches to their impossible Potions coursework. They, too, soon noticed that two of their professors were working together in the library and set about eavesdropping, their Potions books laying open before them under the pretence of study.

-

Minerva was frustrated and every student close by had noticed. Her lips were in the thinnest of lines and her nostrils looked as though they were about to shoot sparks. Dumbledore on the other hand was in good humour. The action that had caused these two opposing states happened mere moments before when Minerva had made to open one of the many books that lay on top of a pile before them – entitled _Don't Become a Fish!_ – and it bit her.

"It's not funny, Albus," she said through clenched teeth, rubbing her sore hand. Dumbledore attempted to chuckle quietly. It was funny. And the reason it was funny was that the book was usually very friendly; however it had apparently taken an immediate dislike to Minerva. It shuffled across the table and stopped in front of Dumbledore who was still sitting by her side.

"Perhaps it senses essence of cat," Dumbledore said, picking up the book and opening it without it causing any drama – the book simply lay lifeless in his hands. Minerva tutted loudly and the nearby students' smiles went unnoticed by their stern professor.

"I do not have _essence of cat_," Minerva snapped. "And I need that book," she added.

"Very well," Dumbledore replied, holding the book out for her to take.

Minerva eyes narrowed at it. It had snapped quite viciously at her and she would rather it did not happen again. Why should it attack her anyway? The title is Don't _Become a Fish!_, not _Become a Fish and Randomly Attack Innocent Cat Animagi with Page Biting Ruthlessness_. She expelled air angrily through her nose.

"Will you open it at the index, please?" Minerva asked sharply, with an angry glare at the book.

-

The three Gryffindors at the nearby table were pink in the face with giggles. The hard leather cover of the 'Fish Book' had snapped shut with a loud crack every time McGonagall had attempted to look at its pages even if it was still in Dumbledore's hands. And now Dumbledore was actually reading it to her. Her annoyance at this fact was obvious in her rigid manner and the frequent sharp exhalations through her taut nostrils.

"I think we can use the last section," Dumbledore said to McGonagall, remarking on the text he had finished verbalising and ignoring McGonagall's exasperated sighs. "But the first seems rather irrelevant."

"I don't think we should use any of it," McGonagall replied indignantly.

The Gryffindors turned their heads subtly and saw Dumbledore smile at McGonagall. The students caught each other's eyes and stifled their giggles once more, slightly apprehensive but at the same time overjoyed to see their Headmaster laughing at McGonagall when she was in no mood to be provoked. It was certainly more than they would dare to do.

-

"You were the one who wanted to use this book in the first place, Minerva," Dumbledore responded, his eyes shining in amusement. "And I must say I think you are right. It explains very clearly about the responsibility of transfiguration and we can easily use this part in correlation with our chapter on morals and principles." Dumbledore sighed. "It is because the book bit you, is it not?"

Minerva gave him a look of shocking disbelief.

"Of course it is," she exclaimed. "I do not care to quote a book that does not think I am eligible to read it. Do you hear that?" she added sharply to the book. "We will not quote you."

_Don't Become a Fish!_ quivered in Dumbledore's hands. Minerva leaned backwards with caution, all too aware that she may have goaded the book into further retaliation. However, the quivering stopped and the book fell open to the page that Minerva had been trying to read for the past half hour.

Still with a note of uncertainty in her voice, Minerva said, "There, you see. All you need is a firm hand, Albus."

-

The watching students saw Dumbledore's eyes twinkle when, for the second time, he lifted the book for McGonagall to take. They had never seen their transfiguration professor possess such indecisiveness before. Usually she was very sure of her actions and would react without hesitation. Now, however, she did nothing but watch the book as though she expected it to jump at her at any moment.

The Gryffindors' smiles faded and turned at once to a look of amazement as they saw Dumbledore's other hand move towards McGonagall's and his fingers close gently around her wrist. To their surprise McGonagall did nothing to prevent him from repositioning her hand which he then brought up to the edge of the book.

-

Minerva sat stiffly, silently watching him tenderly wrap her fingers around one edge of the infuriating book. His skin was surprisingly coarse but his touch was gentle. The book remained motionless.

"There, you see?" Dumbledore whispered as he tightened her grip against the book with his fingers. "Just as you said – 'all you need is a firm hand'."

-

McGonagall took the book cautiously as Dumbledore released his grasp over her hand, and settled it gently down on the desk before her as though she thought it may explode. The students saw her lips move but couldn't make out what she had said. They saw Dumbledore chuckle in response and his voice carried over to them.

"Now, Minerva, that's no way to speak of a harmless book."

"I beg your pardon!" she replied, outraged. "It wasn't harmless earlier, Albus. It –"

McGonagall stopped and the students watched as she looked up at Dumbledore. He was wearing a smile and a mischievous twinkle glimmered in his eyes. He was teasing her. He was actually teasing the severest teacher in the school. They were sure they were the only three students in the entire castle who had witnessed such a spectacle. Their sureness only increased when, to their absolute astonishment, a smile appeared on McGonagall's lips.

-

"There are very few people who would get away with that," Minerva said sternly, but she was privately cheerful at Dumbledore's sense of humour… and also at the fact that he still had ink on the end of his nose.

"Well I am deeply honoured to be among them," he replied still smiling. He looked down at the few pieces of parchment that were their notes of nearly two hours work. "We do not seem to have achieved a large amount this afternoon, do we?" he said.

"Perhaps we should have a break for a few minutes," Minerva responded. "Renew our focus."

"A marvellous idea," Dumbledore replied. "What would you say to a stroll in the grounds? I know of a certain spot by the lake that is particularly excellent at this time of year."

Minerva did not need to say a word. She had been thinking that fresh air would be just the thing to revitalize their concentration.

-

The seventh years watched as Dumbledore rose from his seat and held out his hand to his deputy. McGonagall's eyes darted down to it then back up to Dumbledore before she surprised the students and slipped her hand into his. He pulled her to her feet. They stood motionless, their hands locked between their bodies.

They Gryffindors looked away, suddenly feeling that they were intruding on a rather private moment between their professors. They caught each other's eyes and shuffled awkwardly in their seats – they were rather too close for comfort now.

-

"Some fresh air, I think," Dumbledore said, his voice escaping him in a whisper as he stood before Minerva.

"Yes," she replied with an equal hush over her usually sharp tone. She felt her heartbeat tingle through her skin. The pressure of their hands against her body increased. "To clear our heads."

"Precisely," Dumbledore replied. He cleared his throat. Minerva looked down and released her hand from his, the smallest of smiles stirring on her lips.

Dumbledore stepped aside for her to walk past him towards the library doors and he caught her eye. She held his gaze until he broke it and allowed his eyes moved down to her lips where he caught the glimmer of a smile. The corners of his own mouth twitched.

-

The students watched their headmaster and his deputy walk together out of the quiet library.

"What's to bet that they come back with bigger smiles than bloody Lockhart?" remarked one of the Gryffindors.

An unwanted, scrunched up piece of parchment hit him on the side of the head.

END


End file.
